


make yourself shake fast enough

by soulgraves



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Musicians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 13:14:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4138908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulgraves/pseuds/soulgraves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine and Sebastian: the Warped Tour edition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	make yourself shake fast enough

**Author's Note:**

> For [iflifeisyourstage](http://iflifeisyourstage.tumblr.com/) and the (not actually a prompt, I just fail at doing memes the way they're supposed to be done) prompt: _seblaine, rock stars_.

  


It’s all Sam’s fault.

Blaine had been coping just fine in the afternoon heat -- okay, so _maybe_ fine was overstating it, but he was wearing his thinnest cotton shirt and if it was sticking to his back then that was just what happened when the sun decided Warped Tour should be hotter than the freaking equator -- and if he’d downed half a crate’s worth of bottled water by himself then that was just because he was keeping hydrated and all the official tour pamphlets specified drinking enough. He had it all under control.

Of course then Sam - tanned, sculpted Sam - says, “Dude, just take your damn shirt off before you pass out,” like it’s the easiest thing in the world. It’s not like Blaine has that many issues with his body, not these days, but he isn’t ever going to be the first guy in the place to strip off; still, he’s more than a little aware of all the kids with camera phones, and pictures of him shirtless are probably a better legacy than ones where he’s just a puddle of sweat. 

The immediate wolf-whistle is a little disconcerting though.

Blaine spins around, shirt clutched between his fingers.

“Hey,” the guy says, “don’t let me interrupt the show.” He’s smirking, leaning against a post, and Blaine thinks he should be familiar but right now he can only focus on the way his own cheeks are beginning to burn.

Sam, the traitor, laughs. “I’m going to make sure Ryder and Jake haven’t burnt down our bus,” he says, throwing Blaine a completely unnecessary wink, and Blaine seriously needs to find a new best friend.

After a moment’s awkward silence in which Blaine frantically tries to think of something to do or say that doesn’t involve covering himself up like a blushing virgin, the guy’s smirk shifts into a grin, and he reaches out a hand, taking a few steps forward.

“Sebastian Smythe,” he says, and Blaine _knew_ he recognized him. 

“Blaine Anderson,” he says, because he’s polite and because they have friends in common even if their own paths haven’t crossed before.

“I know,” Sebastian says, and yeah.

_All Sam’s fault._

****

**~**  
  


Blaine doesn’t intend to watch one of Sebastian’s sets. Honestly. He just happens to be walking in that direction and then a couple of the roadies he met at the beginning of tour are calling him over to settle a bet, and the next thing he knows he’s side-stage listening to the crowd cheer and Sebastian take to the mic with casual arrogance and that same twist of amusement on his lips that Blaine’s seen directed at himself plenty of times over the last few days.

He finds a spot behind a couple of large crates, and he’s not _hiding_ , he just-- doesn’t want Sebastian to see him watching. It’s not like the other guy needs the ego boost, and Blaine’s _heard_ his music and it’s really not his speed, except then Sebastian starts singing, and, well.

He hadn’t sounded like _that_ through Blaine’s headphones.

****

**~**  
  


“I’ve been listening to some of your stuff,” Sebastian says when Blaine’s finished soundcheck for the day, lounging in a deckchair and taking off his aviators when he sees Blaine approach. 

“The first album?” Blaine asks because it’s _always_ the first album. 

The look that crosses Sebastian’s face makes it clear he thinks he’s an idiot. “That angst-fest? God, no. I don’t know which guy screwed you up enough that going emo seemed like a good idea, but I much prefer the newer you. He doesn’t make me want to self-harm by proxy." 

It’s stupid, but Blaine’s probably prouder of that than the MTV nomination he’d received for that stupid record in the first place. 

****

**~**  
  


It’s possible that Blaine’s drunk. 

Their set that afternoon had been _amazing_ , and he’s still buzzing from the encore chants that seemed to go on forever; Ryder and Jake are covered in glitter, singing loudly into their beer bottles and it’s possible the last time Blaine saw Sam he was wearing a tutu, but that could have been his imagination and the vodka.

“You look happy,” Sebastian says, and seriously, the guy is a ninja.

“That’s because I am,” Blaine says, and then, before he can filter himself, “You’re really talented. And tall.”

Sebastian lets out a short burst of laughter, eyes dancing with mischief, and Blaine sort of wants to kiss him, kind of a lot.

“Okay,” Sebastian says, blinking back any hint of surprise, and Blaine realizes he said that aloud. If he were sober he’d be mortified, but right now his cheeks hurt from smiling and Sebastian’s looking at him like he’s the only person around.

“Okay,” Blaine repeats, and yeah. _Yeah_.

****

**~**  
  


When Blaine wakes up the next morning, tucked under a lawn chair, head pounding, he feels mortified for about an hour before Sebastian appears out of nowhere, tugging him into the shadows and crowding him up against the side of a bus, kissing him before Blaine can utter so much as an “ _oh_.” 

After that it’s easy.

They have to be careful, of course; they might be able to walk down the street anonymously anywhere else, but here, surrounded by kids who probably know more about them than their families, faces printed across posters everywhere you look, they can’t risk it. Pete Wentz is a cautionary tale Blaine is more than happy to abide by.

Sam gives him the _look_ sometimes - the one that reminds Blaine he can’t hide anything from his best friend - and he wants to talk to him about it, _he does_ , but that would make it real and Blaine likes the little bubble he and Sebastian have created for themselves. 

In the end, that’s probably why he screws it up.

****

**~**  
  


Someone’s dug out a couple of those disposable barbeques and invited the bands that have joined them this leg to hang out, and it’s casual and fun and a relief after being _on_ all day. 

At least it _would_ be if Sebastian would look at him. He’s been talking to the same guy for over an hour, hands gesturing enthusiastically and looking invested in the conversation in a way he so rarely is, and maybe it’s the exhaustion or maybe it’s his reams of insecurities showing their face again, but Blaine’s suddenly very aware that he’s playing with fire.

It’s only been a couple of weeks, and they haven’t put a name to it, this _thing_ between them, and Blaine’s heard enough from friends of friends to know that Sebastian comes with a reputation, he’s never kidded himself about that.

And, well--

He’s suddenly terrified of being just another name on that list.

****

**~**  
  


The guy he ends up taking back to his bus is so far from being his type and keeps saying “I loved your first album, I really felt it, you know?” which isn’t nearly as flattering as he seems to think it is and has the unintended effect of making Blaine think about Sebastian, which he’s trying really hard not to do. 

Still, the guy’s leaving the tour tomorrow and doesn’t seem to care that Blaine doesn’t remember his name, and Blaine justifies it all by clinging to the relief of being on the same page as someone, if only for a few hours.

Later, after the guy’s left, Blaine wonders if he's always been an idiot or if it’s a trait he developed somewhere along the way.

He also learns that it’s not possible to will yourself to drown in a tour bus shower. 

****

**~**  
  


Sam’s been staring at him for fifteen minutes when Blaine finally snaps. 

“Stop it,” he says, and Sam frowns.

“Stop what?”

“Stop giving me that judgy look.”

Sam sighs. “I’m not judging you, dude. I just-- I thought you _liked_ Sebastian. But it’s your life.”

Blaine sort of wants to cry. “I _do_ like him,” he says, running a hand through his hair and resisting the urge to just sink into the seat cushions and stay there until the end of tour. “That’s the problem.”

“Okay?” Sam says, obviously confused. “So you like him, he likes you; I’m not seeing the issue here.”

“But how do I _know_ he likes me?” Blaine blurts out before he can censor himself. “How do I know he wasn’t just passing the time before he started sleeping with someone else?”

Sam blinks at him a few times. “Dude,” he says. “ _Blaine_ , that’s--”

“Stupid,” Blaine interrupts, waving his hand vaguely in Sam’s direction, “I _know_.”

“Actually, I was going to say ‘self-destructive and fatalistic’,” Sam says, and it’s Blaine’s turn to blink. Sam rolls his eyes. “We’ve been writing songs together for years, stop being surprised when I know words.”

“Sorry,” he says, because he’s never wanted to be one of the people that make Sam feel less intelligent than he is. 

“Just talk to him, dude,” Sam says, nudging Blaine’s shoulder as he stands up, and Blaine grabs hold of his hand for a moment. Sam lets out a huffed laugh and presses a kiss to his hair, and Blaine feels a little bit better.

“I promise I’ll come talk to you next time I’m about to do something stupid,” he says, and Sam grins.

“Good,” he says. “But remember, I do need to fit a social life in there somewhere…”

Blaine throws a cushion at him.

****

**~**  
  


Sebastian stares at him for a long time after he stops talking, everything laid out between them because Blaine’s mouth is a traitor, and he’s actually really impressed that Sebastian hasn’t already started running considering the amount of overly-dramatic intensity that Blaine’s able to accumulate with barely any effort these days.

“I’m really sorry,” Blaine repeats because that’s the most important part, obviously, and Sebastian nods.

“We never said we were exclusive,” he points out, and Blaine’s played that excuse through his own head more times than he can count but it’s never rung true.

“We never said we _weren’t_ , either,” he says, and Sebastian nods again.

“So,” he says, after a long moment, and Blaine prepares himself for whatever comes next, “you’re kind of an idiot.”

“I know,” Blaine says, but Sebastian cuts him off before he can apologize again.

“You really thought I didn’t _like_ you? In the month we’ve spent together, can you name _anyone_ else I’ve spent so much time with? I’m not a fan of _people_ , Blaine. You’re an exception to the rule.”

“Oh,” Blaine says, because that’s about all he can manage.

Sebastian rolls his eyes. “Clean slate?” he says, and Blaine wonders if flinging himself bodily into Sebastian’s arms would be a little too much right now. “Just, before you preempt any more of my motives, talk to me, okay?”

“Yes,” Blaine says. “Um--”

“We can start making out any time now,” Sebastian says, and thank _god_ for that.

****

**~**  
  


The rest of tour is a blur of sun and music and applause.

Also sex. Lots of sex.

It’s the best summer Blaine can remember, even if they do end up on a string of blogs because, as it turns out, subtlety isn’t actually a forte either of them possesses. He’s also fairly sure Sam’s been keeping up a running commentary on that twitter account he pretends he doesn’t have, and he’d make yet another case for getting a new best friend if Sam didn’t keep Ryder and Jake away from the bus for hours at a time.

Blaine doesn’t know what’s going to happen when they get back to the real world, back to different cities and recording studios and responsibilities, but right now he doesn’t care. 

It’ll only be complicated when it’s over, and until then he’s going to sit back and enjoy it for what it is.


End file.
